Paradise Found
by GX75-B
Summary: A Burnout Paradise fan fiction. In the gleaming metropolis of Paradise City, a new driver is on the streets. Greg has driven before, but can he learn Paradise's driving style to stay ahead?
1. Turning Over a New Leaf

**Turning Over a New Leaf**

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our final destination, downtown Paradise City. It is currently 85 degrees, and sunny. Have a nice stay in Paradise and thank you for choosing Amtrak." The engineer announced. Greg's spirits soared. He was finally in Paradise City, the location of his new job. He had only answered a classified ad a week ago, and the next day he was on an eastbound train. He got his bags from the overhead storage rack and disembarked the train. Carefully, Greg made his way to street level. Surprisingly, the only people there were the other passengers of the train, no citizens. Feeling a little uneasy, he set off towards the DMV to get his new license. In his research, he found that to live in Paradise, he must get a special license. This license can also be upgraded He entered the large lobby of the DMV, with ques for every level license. Greg went through the empty que for his learners permit, although every other que was filled. He approached the woman behind the counter, and greeted her.

"Hello, welcome to Paradise City. May I see proof of identification and your previous drivers license?"

Greg dug through his overstuffed wallet and dug out his I.D. card and drivers license. He handed them over to the woman, and she looked over them. She handed them back, typing some information into her computer.

"OK, we should have your-"

She was interrupted by a four-door sedan shattering through the store front at over one hundred miles per hour. Greg dove to the floor as twisted body panels and shatterd glass flew. The driver kicked the door three times before the hinges gave out and the dented door fell to the ground with a crunch. Popping out of his car as if nothing had happened, the driver called out,

"I'm finally getting my Elite License!"

Only when the other people began to clap and cheer did Greg realize he was the only guy with his face in the dirt. He staggered to his feet and turned to the counter.

"You're not going to do anything about him?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It's the way everybody in Paradise drives, hon. Have fun out there." She handed him his learners permit and told him to go to 5534 Manners Avenue. As he began to walk away, another driver who was at the DMV during the crash approached him.

"Hey, hold on there." the man said, "She gave you the wrong address."

"Really?"

"Yea. She's sending you to the junkyard across town. It will take you all day to get there by foot."

"Wait," Greg interrupted, "she was sending me to a _junkyard_?"

"You gotta start somewhere."

Greg continued talking to the man, learning all about the cities many opportunities. Finally, they came to the parking lot. A slender, deep red sports car gleamed in the afternoon sun. The sharp edges caught the sun the most, and the paint reflected the two of them.

"You want a ride to the junkyard?" The man offered, extending his hand towards the wonderful car.

Greg just gave a worried and confused look. The man understood and explained.

"Hey, when you took that dive in the DMV, you reminded me of myself when I first arrived in Paradise. I was waiting for my Learners Permit, when out of the blue some guy takes his three-ton toaster and..."

"'Three-ton toaster'?" Greg interrupted again, "What's a 'toaster' around here?"

"It means 'an Inferno Van'. A cargo van, really. Anyways, this guy ploughed his toaster through the front window, and before I knew it, I was on the floor. Everyone else was on their feet, brushing away the glass as if it was a daily occurrence."

"So, that wasn't the first time that's happened?"

"If I had a dollar for every time a driver sent their car through that window, I wouldn't need a job."

Greg took the meaning of this seriously.

"Excuse me sir..."

"Please, call me Ashton."

"Okay, Ashton, if these people drive their cars like that, why doesn't the police department do anything about it?"

Ashton wasted no time with his reply.

"There are just too many to care about! Besides, the whole department is made up of drivers that drive that way when they're off. Hey, you've got to get to that junkyard. Do you want a lift, uh..."

"Greg. And yes, I would like a ride to the junkyard."

The doors swung smoothly and silently up, revealing the black leather interior. Greg slid in, and pulled the door closed as Ashton dropped into the drivers seat. Greg couldn't help but stare at the lavish interior.

"You like it, Greg?"

"Yea."

"Well, you might have to wait awhile before you get this beauty. You can only get it after getting your B License."

"What's the make and model?"

"It's the Jansen P12."

Ashton twisted the key in the ignition, and the starter whined before the V8 engine roared to life. Jamming the transmission into reverse, Ashton took off down King Avenue with Greg protesting all the way.

"Oh, all right Greg." Ashton said teasingly. As he bore down on First Street, he applied the emergency brake as he spun the steering wheel to the right. Obediently, the P12's front end swung to the left 180 degrees until it was facing the right direction. Drifting around the corner of King and Harber, Ashton casually alternated between the brake and accelerator as Greg clung onto the door for dear life. Ashton then made a sudden left into a side alleyway, and activated the nitrous system. The P12 launched forward with it's new found speed, straight for a set of gaps. Greg was now thinking that Ashton wanted to kill them both as all four of the P12's tires soared off the pavement before slamming back down to earth on the other side. The second jump felt just as bad as the first to Greg, but Ashton liked the feeling. They came out of the alley onto Manners Avenue, while Ashton continued to empty the nitrous tanks. Weaving in and out of traffic, the P12 handled perfectly, but Greg didn't notice. He was focused on the blurred forms of cars racing at him at over one hundred miles per hour. Finally, Ashton pulled the emergency brake one last time as they slid into a parking space at the Manners Ave. junkyard.

"Twenty-four point six five eight, a new personal best, I might add." Ashton announced proudly as he stepped out of the P12.

Greg was still in shock well after the car had stopped. Eventually, he staggered out and followed Ashton into the junkyard office.

"I was told to come here." Greg said as he handed the burly man the DMV slip.

"Whoa," the man said as he read the time stamp, "your buddy's one hell of a driver."

"Look, is this where I get my car?"

"You catch on quick. Come out in the yard, we've got a Calvary for you."

The center of the junkyard was barren except for the tire tracks criss-crossing everywhere. Piles of crushed cars lined the outer fence, as a large crane dominated the airspace above.

"Hey, Willard." The man called through his two-way radio, "bring out that Calvary we got yesterday."

The crane's diesel engine coughed and sputtered to life as the boom lazily swung towards the back of the yard. The giant magnet slowly lowered, silhouetted by the late sun. Greg's anticipation grew when he heard the soft click of the magnet connecting to the roof of the car. The car now began to rise slowly, it's silhouette looked perfect. Then the crane stopped, and Greg expected a slow and graceful decent, but it never came. With another soft click, the car released from the magnet and began it's short fall to earth. Landing with a mix of a crunch and a bang, the ruined car rocked on it's weathered suspension.

The fenders almost had no paint left on them, the headlights were blown out, and all of the glass was either cracked or missing.

"What a piece of shit!" Greg exclaimed.

"Yea," the junkyard owner retorted, handing Greg the keys, "and it's all yours."


	2. A Warm Paradise Welcome

**A "Warm" Paradise Welcome**

Greg moaned as he carefully got in. Ashton looked on, reminiscing his rookie days. His cell phone went off, and he answered it.

"Hey, Greg, I've got to go. My work's calling me back." He turned to the junkyard foreman. "Marty, put the P12 back. I need the Citizen."

Again, Marty called to the crane operator. The magnet swung low and picked up the P12. Once the P12 had carefully been put back in place, the magnet attached to an unseen vehicle and began to rise again. This cars silhouette was very different. The vehicle began its fall to earth shortly after, landing right next to the Calvary. It was a police interceptor. There wasn't a single scratch on the black and white paint. Greg was surprised.

"You work for the police department?"

"Yes, the PCPD employs almost every driver in Paradise. Oh, before I go, you'll need this." he tossed a small Bluetooth device to Greg. "Use it to keep in touch. Once you get that Calvary fixed up, call me."

"Where's the nearest auto repair?"

"Just make a right at the intersection, and it should be on your left on South Bay Expressway."

He jumped in and roared off back towards the police station. Greg closed the mangled door of his "new" car and tried to turn the engine over. It coughed and wheezed before slowly coming to life. Black smoke spewed from the tailpipe as he drove off. Cautiously, Greg drove to the auto repair around the corner.

"Oh, what'd you do to that Calvary, man? Take through a Road Rage? Marked Man?" the mechanic asked as Greg got out. The others got to work on the Cavalry.

"I just got it today."

"OK. 'ey Tony, give this guy the 'fruit basket'."

"'Fruit basket'? Is that going to cost extra?"

"You really are new to Paradise, aren't you? Every repair job is free for licensed drivers."

Greg was surprised.

"So, what's the 'fruit basket'?"

"GPS, radio communications, and satellite radio. Keeps you moving through the city."

"Yo, boss," Called Tony, "we're done, man."

Greg was now taken aback as he looked at his new car. Everything was fixed. The fenders were smooth, and their paint shone. More shocking yet, it had only been less than a minute. The manager came up and talked to him.

"Here you go, man. Get going and bring us some better cars to fix up, dig?"

"Uh, yea."

Greg got in his newly repaired Calvary and fired up the engine. The exhaust was clear as day and the engine smoothly revved. He rolled slowly out onto South Bay Expressway, joining the traffic flow. Soon after, the cars radio beeped. It was Ashton.

"I see the auto repair still gives out 'fruit baskets'. I've been given speed trap duties on I-88."

"So... what? Aren't you going to help me around town?"

"What? No. Get moving, man. Explore the city, learn the hidden routes. Oh, and tune to 101. Got to go."

The radio went silent once again as Greg continued over the South Bay Expressway bridge. He decided to get some music going and tuned to 101. The final chords of "Epic" played as he made a left onto South Mountain Drive. The song ended and the D.J. began to speak.

"Hey, D.J. Atomica here with announcement to make: there's another driver among us, people. He's making his way north on South Mountain, so why don't you stop by and give him a good, warm, Paradise City welcome? This is Atomica, here at Crash F.M."

The music began to play again while Greg was passing through the intersection of North Mountain Drive, South Mountain Drive, and Hans Way. Hearing another growling engine behind him, he took a look in his rear view mirror. He looked away from the gleaming chrome grill of the 4x4 behind him, shocked knowing that it was the only visible portion of the vehicle.

The driver of the monstrous vehicle pulled up next to Greg as his passenger leaned far outside to catch a glimpse of Paradise's newest driver. Before the rowdy man could say anything, the truck collided with a sedan, causing it to flip. Greg tried to hold the road while the three-ton truck smashed its way down the road, somehow keeping up with him. As it finally began to slow, Greg thought he heard one of the men calling out to him.

"Welcome to Paradise, dude!"


	3. Soaring on the Breeze

**Soaring on the Breeze**

Greg's Cavalry spun slightly as the wheels locked in an attempt to stop. The driver's door flew open and Greg leaped out to lend a hand to the driver and passengers of the truck, only to find a brand new truck in the place of the wreck.

"What the...? How'd they get a new truck out here so fast?"

"'New truck?' Dude, you really_ are_ from outta town, aren't you? First, this isn't a 'truck,' it's a Hunter Takedown 4x4. Second, these cars 'reset,' so to speak."

"'Reset?' How?"

"There's a small radio transmitter that signals that you've been in an accident, and if it's bad enough, it'll-"

The man was cut off by both car's C.B. radios sparking to life.

"Attention all Paradise drivers, Road Rage event starting westbound at the tollbooths between I-88 sections one and four. All available Spurs, Inferno Vans, 4x4s, and '07 Oval Champs, report to westbound I-88 section four."

"Well, I've got to go, big event on the Highway to Hell! Let's go, Joe!"

The powerful engine of the 4x4 fired up loudly. The driver did a quick three point turn and raced back down South Mountain Drive. Greg just got back into his Cavalry, and continued northward.

"_Man, the people around here are_ _crazy_._" _He thought to himself as he approached the wind farm. The turbines spun slowly in the light westward breeze, their blades casting sweeping shadows across the landscape. The cars in the lot looked anything but normal. A beat-up, rusty pick-up truck sat next to sleek German super car, with a custom hot-rod gleaming in the late sun. But, the most striking vehicle in the lot was the formula one car parked at the very end of the lot. Greg pulled into a spot between the nitro-fueled speed machine and the hot-rod. Phil, his boss, came outside to meet him.

"Greg! Glad you could make it over here so quickly. Do you have an apartment or condo yet?"

"No, I just got here earlier today."

"Well, here you go." Phil said, handing him a card and a set of house keys, "The building's on East Crawford Drive. You can stay there for the first two weeks while you adjust to Paradise, but after that, you'll have to find your own place to stay."

Greg didn't know what to say. Here he was, standing face to face with his boss, who just handed him the keys to an apartment he could stay in rent-free for two weeks.

"But, uh, Phil, don't I need to pay for it?"

"Not at all. Just make sure you get here on time every day, and earn a good day's worth of pay. I'd love to give you the grand tour of the plant, but it's too late in the day for that now."

"So what time tomorrow should I get here?"

"Around 6:00 a.m."

"Okay. See you tomorrow, Phil."

"Looking forward to it!"

Phil walked over to the formula one car and put on a helmet. The engine whined as he backed away, then screamed while speeding away down North Mountain Drive. The other workers of the plant began to exit towards their cars, and Greg thought it would be a good time to visit his new apartment. Being the new guy, Greg received a few jests and jokes from the old hands as he got in his car.

"Look out, someone's called in the Cavalry!"

"Oh, the right lane's gonna be filled up tomorrow, eh guys?"

"No, the scrap heap's more like it!"

"Looks like he's never gone over 80!"

"Where, here?"

"Anywhere!"

A round of laughter went through the group as doors slammed shut. Every engine coughed loudly to get oxygenated fuel into their cylinders, but not everyone left. The driver of the hot rod stayed behind with Greg. They tuned into his channel.

"So, how long have you been in Paradise?"

"About one, maybe two hours."

The other driver looked over at Greg through the passenger window, the late sun catching him like a spotlight. Greg tried the same through the driver's window, but the glare prevented a good view of his soon-to-be co-worker.

"That long, huh? I'm guessing you've never jumped that piece of junk yet, am I right?"

"Yea. Why would I do that?"

The driver just sighed.

"This city's different than most, kid, you should know that. Anyways, I have to go."

They pulled out, with Greg following. At the light, he pulled up into the left lane and prepared for a left turn onto Uphill Drive. When the light was green, Greg found himself charging at a set of yellow gates, due to the other driver ramming him from behind. The Cavalry smashed through the chain-linked barrier, sending the steel flying. Doing his best to stop the car, Greg stood on the brake pedal, but nothing seemed to happen as the Cavalry sailed off the edge of a cliff. Greg screamed as the car made a rough landing onto a dirt path with cement barriers on each side, before lunching itself again from another cliff. This pattern continued five more times, crossing over Uphill Drive twice, before the Cavalry skidded to a stop near Nelson Drive. The hot rod slammed to the ground, spun 180 degrees, and came to a complete stop next to him. The driver connected back into Greg's frequency.

"How'd you like your first taste of Paradise air?"

"_Like_ it? You just sent me flying off _six_ cliffs, each time running the risk of me getting killed, and you ask me if I _liked_ it?"

"You're on an adrenaline high, aren't you?"

Greg caught himself, realizing the only reason he was yelling was indeed from his adrenaline.

"Thought so. See you tomorrow!"

She called as she sped away down the country road.

"Yea... tomorrow..." He weakly replied, still edging off the adrenaline high. Once he regained his composure, he found himself seeking another ramp as he drove west on Nelson Drive. Ashton called in.

"Man, not even six hours here and you tried the Uphill steps? Whew, you may have a chance against these other drivers pretty soon. How'd you like it?"

"It was incredible! Ashton, where's the biggest jump close to me?"

"That would be the bluff by the quarry on South Mountain, but-"

"How would I get there?" Greg asked, eager to get air born again.

"Just keep going straight through every intersection, then line up with the blue barrels at the bend in South Mountain."

"Thanks, Ashton!"

"Wait! About the ramp-" Greg turned off the radio as he raced just above the posted limits towards the jump. His eyes grew wide as he zeroed in, his adrenaline making him ignore the rules of the road as he flew across the two lanes of oncoming traffic. The barrels flew as the 3,000 pound car lifted off. Screaming and yelling in sheer joy, Greg enjoyed the whole experience. As the Cavalry touched down, he got some cheers from the other drivers parked on the side of the road, with the same hod rod sitting in the crowd.

"I'm guessing you liked the steps?" She called.

"I just flung myself off a 1,000 foot cliff. That tell you anything?"


End file.
